


Jack^2

by elvisqueso



Category: Jack White - Fandom, Music RPF, RPF - Fandom
Genre: Clones, M/M, Other, Smut, also kinda turned into a cracky kinda rom-com, go watch I'm Shakin'. It'll all make sense then., how do tag, i don't even know it's just..., not sure how, selfcest, with two Jacks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-04
Updated: 2013-08-15
Packaged: 2017-12-22 09:06:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/911405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elvisqueso/pseuds/elvisqueso
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack White gets to know himself very, very well.</p><p>Good ol' Arthur Dottweiler makes a cameo</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Jack Meets Himself for the First Time

**Author's Note:**

> Where do I begin to explain this?  
> I started this a few months back and posted what I have on tumblr and livejournal already. Figured I might as well post it here, too.  
> Basically, I saw the I'm Shakin' video and there went my smutty brain like a rocket, shipping Jack White with himself
> 
> Or, in this case, a clone of himself.
> 
> I never have a beta, so please nit-pick and help me improve myself.

There are times in this life when some unexpected thing will show up and take everything you thought you knew, crumple it into a little ball, and toss it into the blazing furnace of new reality.  These things come quick, come sudden, and come hard, often without mercy, leaving you lying in the dirt, gasping, wondering what the fuck just went down.  This was one of those things.

 

 _This_ thing was a Jack White.

 

A _second_ Jack White.

 

An absolute double, a perfect twin, a doppelganger.

 

No matter how Jack looked at it, this thing was another _him_.

 

There were many questions flying through the man's mind:  _How is this possible?  Who would do this?  Why would they do it?  Is this even ethical?  Did I leave the coffee on too long?_

 

But the most pressing question was, _what is it doing in my living room?_

 

“Arthur...” Jack began, slowly, “What is this?”

 

Arthur Dottweiler, the former handler of the late White Stripes, had come up with some hare-brained schemes in the past – still did in the present, much to Jack's chagrin – but this was just absolutely ridiculous.  Here, in his house, lying on his couch – it was apparently asleep – was a perfect replica of himself, right down to the black shirt and jeans he was wearing.  What in the name of All that is Sacred and Holy was Arthur thinking?

 

The dowdy manager shot Jack a look from behind his thick-rimmed spectacles that said 'are you fucking blind or just stupid' before explaining:

 

“Look, Jacky, you're a busy guy, right?  You got a couple-a bands, a couple-a kids, a record company, etc., etc., am I wrong?”  Jack regarded to him cautiously.  “Well,”  Arthur continued, “Old Uncle Arthur felt like helpin' you out and had _this_ baby made for ya.” - he gestured to the double -  “Just a little something that might lighten your workload.”

 

“This doesn't look like 'a little something,' Arthur.”

 

“Oh, for the love a-” _Aaaand here it comes,_ Jack thought, dismally.  And it did:

 

“You are so _full_ of it, Jacky!  Such a big rock star now, he's gotta do it all by himself now, he just can't accept any help!  _Oooohhh_ noooo, that would just wreck your precious, fucking reputation, wouldn't it Mister Hot-Shot?  Is that what you wanna be called, huh?  Mister _Hot-Shot_??  Yeah, that's a great pose you got goin' there, with your hands in your back-pockets, stickin' your ass out!  I'm doing you a favor, and you are just so ungrateful.  You never did like any of the presents I got you for Christmas, did you? _You never did eat your Goddamn Poke-man macaroni and cheese!_ Not even when you were hungry!  It was all, just to spite me, I know it-”

 

“Ahem...”  Jack and Arthur both nearly jumped out of their skin, the clone sat up, rubbing it's eyes.

 

“You woke me up...”

 

“It talks!”  Jack gasped, earning a glare of annoyance from the clone's dark chocolate eyes, identical to Jack's own.

 

“Of course I talk, you twit!” 

 

“Who the fuck are you-”  The sentence caught in Jack's throat as he felt the sting of Arthur's hand upside his head.

 

“Play nice with yourself, Jacky!”

 

Before Jack could snap back, the clone continued its interjection:  “Whatever you two are arguing about: I don't care,” It began squirming experimentally on the couch cushion, as if trying to find a sort of balance, “Where am I?  And this...thing under me, what is it?” it demanded.

 

Jack stared at his twin dumbfounded as he replied, “...The _couch_?”

 

“Is this what a couch is, then?”  The clone continued to squirm, “I had heard the word, but didn't quite know what it meant.”

 

“How do you not know what a couch is?”  In Jack's mind, it only made sense that a clone of himself would at least know a couch when it saw one. 

 

“There were no couches at the lab,” it responded as if the reason should have been obvious, “So I had no way to assign meaning to the words I knew.”  Assuming that this explanation was well enough, the clone proceeded to run its hands along various objects and furniture asking animatedly what word belonged to them.  Arthur poked Jack in the arm repeatedly, earning a glare.

 

“Okay, Jacky,” he began, handing Jack a book, “Read that.  It's the user manual.  I'm gonna go and you two can get to know each other and do whatever it is you Jacks like to do.”  With that he left.  Jack glanced down at the manual:

 

“ _Getting to Know Yourself:  The Care and Keeping of Your Personal Clone_...” Jack began with a grimace, lightly thumbing through the first few pages, glancing over the instructions on feeling and other basic bodily needs.

 

Second Jack had stopped molesting Jack's things at this point and was now circling Jack curiously.  When it started patting Jack's hair Jack finally looked up from his reading.

 

“Hey,” it said, “You look an awful lot like me, Mister.”

 

“Actually,” Jack bristled, “ _You_ look and awful lot like _me_.”  The clone seemed to consider this, before shaking its head.

 

“No, definitely the other way around.”

 

Jack sighed, “You know you're my clone, right?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“You know what a clone is, right?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Then _you_ look like _me_.”

 

“No I don't.”

 

“For the love a-”

 

“I'm hungry.”

 

“ _Sigh_....”


	2. Jack Makes Himself Some Bacon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get weird...er

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Catching up with myself by posting all the chapters I've already posted on other sites
> 
> I hope that is a normal thing to do...

“Ridiculous.”

 

Jack glared at the bacon as it sizzled in its own grease.  He prodded the meat accusingly, as if the delicious side meat was to blame for his current predicament.  “Just...fucking ridiculous,” he muttered bitterly, turning the bacon over as he did so.

 

His clone was currently occupying itself by milling about the house, occasionally stopping to caress some object it was unfamiliar with.  Instinctively, it made its way toward the place where Jack's girlfriends slept peacefully.  Seeing them in such repose, the clone paused momentarily, captivated by their beauty; the sensuous curvature of their bodies, the slender necks like smooth columns as they lay exposed to the pale sunlight, enticing and intoxicating, though the clone had no idea as to why.  Unable to hold back, the clone reached out a hand, long fingers extending to gently touch the -

 

“... ** _Yo_**.”

 

“AUUUGGHH!”  Jack's voice had broken his clone's trance and caused it to jump so drastically it nearly crunched its head on the ceiling before landing on its ass.  “The _fuck_ , man!?”  Jack stepped between his clone and his girls:

 

“Hey, don't go messing with my girlfriends behind my back.”  He chided, taking a seat on a chair which the clone had failed to notice.

 

“Those are called, 'girlfriends?'”  The clone frowned, a crease of puzzlement appearing between his brows, “That doesn't seem to fit...”  Jack rolled his eyes and sighed:

 

“They're _guitars_ , you idiot,”  picking up the red-brown one as he did so.  He began gently fingering the neck with one hand and teasing the strings with the other.  “I've given them all names after actresses I love.  Hence, I call them my 'girlfriends.'  This one here, she's called Claudette.”  His ministrations became more deliberate, his fingers dancing along her neck, hitting all the right spots.  She sang like an angel under him, murmuring in a warm and steady rhythm until he would suddenly drive her hard, causing her to cry out in a chord of ecstasy.  Jack rocked to and fro, eyes closed, and enjoyed the feeling of her in his arms.  Just forgetting everything else.  Just feeling right...

 

“ **Oh, hey, what's that?** ”  A voice rather similar to Jack's own bleated out over the music, crudely breaking the intimate spell.  _Oh, right,_ Jack thought, _my clone._

 

“ _What_.” Jack growled, opening his eyes again to glare at his double.

 

Said double was rather indecently pointing at Jack's crotch, which was rather indecently forming a rather indecently sized bulge in his pants.  “What's going on with your penis, man?”  Jack quickly swept Claudette off of his lap and placed her back on her stand.  His legs snapped shut, face burning bright red he nearly squeaked:

 

“N-nothing!”

 

“That wasn't a nothing, that was a something.  Let me see!”  The clone began trying to pry Jack's legs open again and after a great deal of struggling and hair tugging the clone had Jack pinned down on the ground, placing itself between his thighs.  “Wow,” it said, gently poking the offensive bulge in jack's pants, “It's growing!”

 

“Will you STOP THAT!?”  Jack yelped, desperately grabbing at his double's obliviously pleasurable hands and failing.  Instead, the double managed to clasp both of Jack's hands above his head with one of its own.  It set to work undoing Jack's fly with its free hand.

 

“Will you just keep the fuck still?  I'm investigating something here.”  To Jack's dismay, the clone managed  to uncover his almost fully erect member.  Eye's shining with curiosity, the clone began running its fingers over the flesh, much in the same way it had been exploring the objects in the house earlier.  Jack, on the other hand, was dealing with all sorts of messed up emotions, sensations and considerations;  _This isn't happening.  This feels good.  It shouldn't feel good.  But it feels really damn good!  I'm pretty sure this is illegal.  Oh, fuck, oh, fuck, oh, fuck.  This is so wrong.  This is so very, very wrong.  I shouldn't be enjoying this.  Dammit, penis, stop enjoying this!  Fuck!_   And the like. 

 

From his lips, Jack could only groan and moan in a pleasure he only felt complete and utter shame for as his clone unknowingly gave him the best hand-job he had ever had.  Disregarding Jack's verbal reactions, the clone focused completely on exploring every bit of Jack's throbbing erection.  Its fingers rubbed along the shaft and traced along the head before making their way to Jack's balls and fondling them, weighing them, and then returning to the head to examine the beads of semen dripping from the slit.  The clone began spreading the cum over its fingertips, studying the texture.  It placed a semen-coated finger in its mouth and held it there a moment, pondering the taste.  For reasons Jack would never willingly explain, the sight of what was essentially him tasting his own cum in such a manner was too much and, just as the clone was re-engaging the oh-so-ready cock, Jack came with a howl, shooting his milky white essence right into his clone's eye.

 

“The FUCK!”  The clone barked, leaping back and trying to rub the cum out of its eye, “What the Hell was that?”  Jack was gasping for air, trying to regain composure as his shaky hands fumbled with his zipper, trying to pack his shame back into his pants.  After a few deep breaths, he barely managed to groan:

 

“Ohhhh _nooooo_....”


	3. Jack Finally Has a Name for His Clone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh, that lovely smell of character development and bacon  
> Mmmmmm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is actual Jack and then there is the Jack in my head

“Hold still.”

 

“Ow!  You’re _hurting_ me!”

 

“Well, if you’d stop fucking _moving_ I wouldn’t have to.”

 

Jack grappled with his flailing clone, trying to hold its head under the water streaming from the showerhead.  He had managed a firm hold of its hair and was attempting to shampoo his cum from the black mess of  curls.  The clone wasn’t taking it well:

 

“Gaah!  There’s soap in my eye!  Fuck!  I don’t like this!  This is all sorts of badness!”

 

And so on.

 

Jack merely rolled his eyes and forced the clone’s head back under the stream of water.  For a moment too long for his liking, Jack pondered the wet locks entwined ‘round his fingers and the tense movement of the muscular back he was now pressing against.  Catching himself, he pulled away quickly and turned off the water.  Grabbing a towel, he turned the viciously pouting clone to face him and began drying the now cum-free hair, perhaps a little too roughly.

 

“What are you _dooo_ iiingggggg?!”

 

“Drying you off, moron.”

 

“What?  This isn’t how we did it at the lab!”

 

“Well, we ain’t IN your fucking lab, now are we?”

 

Jack hung the sodden towel on the shower bar and led the grumbling clone to his room to get it clothed.  As Jack rummaged through his closet for old things he never wore anymore (but it ain’t getting any of his red things.  No way.  That would not be happening), the clone seemed to regain its ability to persistently ask really stupid questions.

 

“Okay, so, what are you doing?”

 

“Getting you some fucking clothes.”

 

“Fucking clothes?  Clothes for fucking?”

 

“No!  Just clothes!”

 

“Oh.  Well, why’d you use the ‘fucking’ adjective, then, if it’s not to describe the noun?”

 

“What?  Because- ugh, it’s a figure of speech, okay?”

 

“Ohh.  Figure of speech…”

 

“Sigh…”  Jack finally settled on some jeans and a brown t-shirt from his Raconteur days and tossed them on the bed next to the clone.

 

“Oh, hey!  I just thought of something.  Your name is Jack and my name at the lab is Jack 2.0.  Weird, huh?”

 

“Actually, that makes perfect sense.”  The clone looked thoughtful for a moment.  During that moment, Jack wondered if it actually knew how to dress itself or if Jack was going to have to dress it, like some sort of demented Barbie doll.

 

“I think I need a better name.”

 

“Such as?”

 

“Three Quid.”

 

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

 

“No.  Why would I?”

 

“How did you even- did you know that’s the name I use in England or did you just pull it out of your ass and get lucky?”

 

“…How do you pull words from your ass?”

 

“Jesus…”

 

“That doesn’t make any sense.  Are you stupid?”

 

“Shut up and just put these on.”

 

“I’m still hungry, by the way.”

 

Just as those words left Three’s mouth, the smoke detector started screeching.  Jack had forgotten about the bacon.


	4. Jack Advances to a New Form of Masturbation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jacky gets to know himself very,very well

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's yer darn porn

 

Somehow, Jack had managed to liquefy the bacon.  He chose to blame it on Three, and made a mental note to see a therapist and ask what steps he would need to take to get over the experience of getting off on himself giving himself a handie.  There was _definitely_ some weird, Freudian shit going on there.

After some hours of airing out the house and scraping the crusted remains of pig fat off his frying pan, Jack and Three eventually opted for McDonald’s.  Jack spent their McNuggety meal together explaining the rules of the house to Three; explaining where Three would be sleeping, where it wasn’t allowed to go, what it wasn’t allowed to touch, how it was to stay out of Jack’s way in the morning until Jack had gotten his coffee, etc.  Whether or not Three actually processed the information was still a mystery.

Three had insisted on having its hair cut and styled.  “I’d rather not have people thinking you are me and then getting sorely disappointed when you aren’t as cool as I am,”  it had said.

“And I’d rather not have to re-arrange your face and yet here you are talking again.”  Jack replied.

“So we are in agreement?”

“I- sure, fine, why not?”

“Okay.  I’m thinking something shorter.  I feel like I’m wearing a mop on my head.  I’d like to be able to actually _see_ , you get me?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

“Oh, and I’d like some new clothes.  Your things are just…bland.  Seriously, do you only ever wear black and the occasional red or blue?”

“ _No_.  Sometimes I wear yellow.”

“See what I mean?  Lame.”

“You’ve never been outside until today what the fuck do you know?”  Three rolled its eyes.

“Internet.  _Duh_.”

“Oh, so, because you learned about men’s fashion on the internet you opinion must be valid.”

“Yes.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“ _You’re_ an idiot.”

“Are you seriously doing this right now?”

“I am never not serious, Jack.”

“Lord, grant me the strength to not strangle my own clone and dance on its corpse…”

“Ew.  If you tried to dance on my corpse you’d just keep falling off.  It’d never work.”

“ _One…two…three…three and a half…_ ”

The two went on talking about absolutely nothing for another ten minutes before Jack finally took Three to a hair stylist and the nearest desirable clothing stores.  Following the incredibly uncomfortable explanations to the stylist and the retail clerks that no, this is not Jack’s long-lost twin, yes it is a clone and no, you cannot poke it for ‘science’ reasons, Three got its haircut and its new clothes. 

Jack tried to ignore the marked resemblance to his Raconteur circa Consolers of the Lonely haircut.  And even Jack had to admit, albeit grudgingly, that his clone _did_ have good taste in clothes ( _A v-neck under a patterned blazer, comfortably fitting pants and the right shoes. The occasional open collar button-down or such.  Always with some splash of color that wasn’t too much.  Three was so giddy that Jack wanted to punch it_ ).

The clone was happy, and a happy clone was a slightly less annoying clone.

The pair arrived home as dusk was ending and the clouds in pinks, reds and purples looked like they had been pulled from an oil painting and placed against a navy blue matte board.  After lugging Three’s several shopping bags back into the house and into the guest room, Jack retired to his bedroom, exhausted, and collapsed in a heap on the bed.  To his chagrin, Three followed soon after.

“Jack… _Jack_ …”

“What could you possibly want _now_?”

“Are you tired?”

“ _Groan…_ ”

“Is that a ‘yes?’”

“Yes!  I am tired.  I feel like I wanna die, I’m so tired.  _What.  Do.  You.  Want_?”

“I’m tired, too.”

“Wonderful.”

“You’re not in your pajamas…”

“I really, _really_ don’t care at this point.”

“I don’t have any pajamas.  Or a toothbrush.”

“What?”

“We forgot.”

“ _God fucking_ \- just use mine!”

“Ew.”

“We have the same DNA.  Using my toothbrush ain’t gonna kill you.”

Three meandered off, grumbling about bacteria and the Internet, leaving Jack to finally let himself drift off. 

A few hours later, Jack was shaken awake by his clone.  Between bashing Three in the face with a pillow and bolting upright, Jack managed a glance at the clock.

“It is 12:30 in the fucking morning.  You better have a good reason for waking me up.”

It is during this moment that Jack realizes the state of Three’s dress; which is to say: not dressed at all.  Three had toppled off the bed and lay strewn on the floor, dazed and very much exposed, save for that vital area encased in grey boxers.  It managed to get itself upright before answering.

“I wanted a glass of water.”

Normally, Jack would have responded with an ‘are you shitting me’ variety of retort but words failed him.  His eyes were treacherous, too; refusing to lose focus on the not unsubstantial bulge in Three’s underwear.  _No._ Jack’s mind screamed, _Not again!_

His penis had other plans.

“Oh, hey!  Your dick’s doing _the thing_ again!”  Three, with the biggest, stupidest grin on its face, hopped up onto the bed, knocked Jack over and grabbed the object of interest out of pure instinct.

“No!  No, we are not doing this!”

“Oh, wait…now _my_ dick’s doing _the thing_.”

“Where did you even hear that word?”

“You yelled it at a truck and I asked you what it meant and you said ‘penis.’”

Before Jack could stop it, Three had managed to unsheathe both of their members and sat on Jack’s legs, pinning them, to compare the two.  Jack choked out gasps and half-sobs as Three carelessly banged the two meat sticks together.

“Why is yours bigger?  Is it because it’s doing _the thing_?”

“ _Erection_!  It’s called an e _rection_ you _moron_!”

“Wait, I think I can get mine to match.  How to do…”

“Three, don’t do this…”

“Uhmm…”

Three began to pump its fist up and down its shaft, unsurely and awkwardly and – and Jack hated himself for thinking this – _adorably_.  Somewhere, deep in Jack’s mind, something cracked a little, and he decided to give in to whatever twisted thing this was and call it advanced masturbation.  Anything to quell the aching he now had in his crotch and feel even remotely justified.

“Hell with it,” Jack barked, smacking Three’s hands away from their project, “Lemme show you…”

Jack flipped the two of them so that he was kneeling on the bed over Three, conveniently placed between Three’s legs.  He pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it to the floor, followed by his pants and Three’s boxers.  He worked his hands on Three’s vitals, one hand pumping in a steady syncopation (a rhythm he liked to call ‘Mediterranean Samba’) as the other caressed its balls.  Three squirmed on the bed, clearly lost with the situation at hand, though not entirely displeased with it.

“Wo _ooaa_ aah, what?  What are you doing??  I don’t understand!   I feel all hot and stuff!”

Jack paused and leaned over; he placed his hands on either side of Three’s head and fixed it with a serious gaze.  “Three,” he said, “Do you know what **sex** is?”

“…Some type of cake, yes?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

“You had Internet access in your lab and you don’t know what sex is.  That is what you are saying.”

“Does it have something to do with what we are doing now?”

“Yes.  Yes it does.”

“Oh.”

Something about Three’s lips shaped in that slightly puckered oval made them seem very kissable, and Jack didn’t care to figure out why.  He pressed his lips to Three’s and held for a moment, letting Three get over its initial flustering and settle in on instinct.  When it did, it responded beautifully, matching Jack’s growing vigor with tongue and teeth.  When they finally broke away for air, the clone smacked its lips, eyebrows arched in pleasant surprise.

“ _Oh_.” Was all it said.

A tube of lube and one, two, three fingers later, Jack was balls-deep in his own clone trying very hard not to think about what he was doing; focusing instead on the sensual rhythm, the wonderful feeling of tightness around his cock and the fingers entwined in his hair.  Three had no idea what it was doing, exactly; that was clear.  But Three felt _good._   The way it moaned when Jack hit its prostate, the way its heels dug into Jack’s thighs and it clawed at his back for some way to pull him in closer, all of it had a feeling of heightened reality that went straight to Jack’s member and drove him harder and harder.  His hand pumped in time on Three’s cock until the two of them came loudly and messily, spread over sweaty sheets and panted breaths.

Jack felt like every muscle in his body had been ripped, and he groaned as he pulled out and collapsed next to Three on the bed.  He glanced over to look at his clone, its chest rising and falling heavily, face flushed and lips parted.  For a moment, he forgot that advanced masturbation wasn’t an actual thing and that this clone was basically himself.  For a moment, he felt peaceful.  The moment soon ended when Three turned his head to look at Jack, eyes alight.

“That.  Was.  AWESOME.”  That stupid grin was back; only this time, Jack didn’t feel like retching when he saw it.

“Yes,” Jack half-chuckled, “Yes it was.”

“We should do that again,” Three nodded, rubbing its eyes, “But later, when I’m not tired.”

“Yeah.”

“Good night, Jack.”

“Good night, Three.”

“Try not to think about the frailty of human life and the eventual death of each and every person on the planet.”

“…What?”

“Shhh.  Shhh.  Go to sleep.”

The two tried to bicker further, curled up next to each other in the sheets, with increasingly incoherent jabs until they both drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried


End file.
